The Second Moon
by SONGUE
Summary: HIATUS - Will be rewritten - The Doctor had met his fair share of impossibilities through out time and space, but nothing like THIS... setting after "THE GOD COMPLEX" and before "CLOSING TIME"
1. Prelude

_I do not own Doctor Who nor any of its marvelous characters. Please, enjoy the show :)_

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><p><strong>Prelude<strong>

The man known as The Doctor was, surprisingly, bored. After restoring the Princes of Papalagus to power and stopping the kidnapping of all children in Raxacoricofallapatorius, he decided it was time to make a stop at - where else? - Earth.

Earth. It had all the troubles in the Universe and yet it was one of the most fascinating places to visit, and that says a lot, if you take the Universe into account.

'_Wonderfully naive people, so many fond memories, all the disasters I helped to avoid..._' - arguably, some would say he was the cause of a large portion of them - '_Earth_'. He caught himself thinking in the past, how strange it was to grow old and feel so young at the same time!

All the shaking around stopped suddenly. Centuries ago, that would have startled him, but he was now many regenerations wiser. Well, not a lot wiser. A little wiser, definitely. Quirkier and eager, that's for sure. He knew that, wherever he was at the moment, it was for a reason. "Time to go for a walk, you reckon?", he asked aloud, no answer given back.

The door of TARDIS flew open and he put his head outside. The smell of 21st century Earth was always so nice, he had grown used to it, these last few years.

- Oh, good. - he said to no one in particular, fixing his ever-criticized, but always fashionable bow tie. - This is definitely Earth, but where? Oh! I hope its New Zealand! I love New Zealanders!

He locked the door and gave a small, almost imperceptible tickle at the knob. '_Sexy_', he called her. _Sexy_always knew where to drop him off after every adventure. He only wished he knew it too before hand. But that was a rare wish. Knowing spoiled the fun.

_And now what?_The Doctor expanded his conscience, trying to sense something, something wrong in the distance.

There was really something bothering him, but he could not pinpoint it. Something was definitely not right.

And then he felt it. Something inside of him. Deep inside. An urge.

"_Oh!_", he suddenly realized. He was hungry!

...

"I beg your pardon?", asked the teenager at the counter.

"I asked where is this place and if I can have some of those chips, large size?" The Doctor asked with a smile.

"Oh, right, sir", said the lad, creeped out by the man's look and really happy attitude. "Don't know where you are? You lost?"

"Oh, yes and no, I mean, I had to stop here, wasn't my call, but I can't say I don't like this."

"So you ARE lost, sir, is that it?"

"Of course I am! But it is not being lost if you're supposed to be there, right? Finding out what's wrong with the Universe and trying to figure out how to set it right. Or less wrong. It depends on the case, like this one time in Egypt..."

"Hm", he said, not really caring. It had been a slow day and he desperately wanted to close the shop and go home, and now he had to listen to some weird guy wearing a tweed and (_lord-almighty_) a bow tie.

" ... and, what do you know, people actually preferred it without the nose!"

Bag paid, bag received. The young man turned to check if there was still enough salt left when he noticed the strange man was still there, staring at the large bag of chips, a frown in his face.

"What, something wrong, sir?"

The man stared at the bag, quizzically.

"Oh, yes, no, I mean, not wrong with your chips. They look splendid!", he added. "It's that... I don't like them."

"You don't like the chips?"

"Yes, I guess I don't like chips. Not anymore, anyway."

'_So why the hell did you buy them in the first place?_', was the natural question that came to his mind.

"I mean, I used to bloody love them, but today I am not a chips-guy. Don't now, it's always the little things you discover in the long run. 'Out with the chip, in with the fish fingers'. Thank goodness, jelly babies are still all right, it would be such a shame to suddenly dislike them."

The young man just nodded, while the man still yapped and yapped.

'_That is the strangest customer ever_', he thought, with good reason.

"You know what, you can keep it for you, they look delicious, not to me, but you look like you eat chips, you eat them?" The smile never stopped. "You probably do. Eat them, it's 'on the house', so they say!"

The man left the stand, and walked away. The teenager at the counter just stared at the strange man, walking away, and the bag of potato chips he had now in his hands.

...

The Doctor wondered if he had been rude with the boy, given the look in his face. Maybe the lad did not like chips after all.

He remembered how rude and obnoxious he used to be with other people, not that long ago. Privately, he suspected he got that way after figuring out he was not a ginger. But he changed his ways, yet again (still not a ginger, though). Gingers were cool.

Maybe he needed an ice cream. Did he want an ice cream? '_Do I scream?_', he humored. Ice cream were for hot days. It wasn't hot or sunny. He looked up in the sky. It was late afternoon - or maybe early evening. Definitely late for... ice-creams...

The Doctor froze. He could not believe what he was seeing.

He felt awkward in his boots. He was having a strange feeling, probably after reminiscing so much about his previous form. It was stuck in his throat - would he dare say it out-loud? It seemed childish, but still, he had to.

He stared at them, and they were impossible.

So he asked anyway.

- **What**? - he said.

He looked around, saw people walking by, and nobody was looking up like him. Why were they not looking at the sky? How was it possible? Did they not know yet?

- **WHAT**? - he said it for the second time.

He drew the sonic screwdriver out of his inner pockets - "It can't be!"-, pointed it straight up - "An illusion! A hologram!"-, waited the buzzing noise stop after a couple of seconds - "_Feels much longer, right now..._" - and took the measurements.

It was not an illusion.

It was real and they were up there, staring right back at him.

Two full moons in the sky.

- **WHAT?**

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><p>(roll credits, theme song)<p>

Matt Smith

DOCTOR WHO

"The Second Moon"

by Songue

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><p><em><strong>Please, if you can spare a minute, share your opinion and reviews, I would so much appreciate it!<strong>_


	2. Memories and other interesting things

_I do not own Doctor Who nor any of its marvelous characters. Please, enjoy the show :)_

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><p>The Doctor quickly ran back inside the TARDIS, jumped some steps and went straight to the main console.<p>

"Now, that... is... interesting!"

He said that to nobody and no answer came. It had been quiet in the TARDIS for quite some time, but it had been worse before. Much worse.

He pulled a lever, adjusted the screen, stepped left, pushed a button, went around the console, came back, un-pushed the same button, returned to the other side of the console, spun three set of copper wheels and started a small 'blender-engine-type-of-apparatus' on top of another panel.

Of course, that whole operation would have been easier with a couple of extra-hands around, but the Doctor traveled alone these days.

He had much to think about, and it had been a few months of thinking.

'Amy at Demon's Run', his greatest hour, his deepest failure. If not for River's support, how would he be now? Who would be the Doctor today? He had experienced defeats before. He knew how he reacted when thing went really sour, but things had not been this bad ever since the War. What happened after the Moment, after he regenerated...

"No use remembering it now", he shook his head. Much to do, much to check. Or, in reality, not much to check at all.

Static on the screen, unusual readings on the console. The impossible happened again, something was confusing TARDIS' sensor array and the multidimensional gravity span reader (the "blender-engine-type-of-apparatus").

"Hey, now! Play fair!", he scolded the moon showing on the screen, the second moon, the other moon, the copycat, the one that did not want to reveal its secrets.

He would have to go up there and ask her himself all the questions. He grinned like only a Cheshire cat would.

How could he not accept such an open invitation?

The Doctor turned left on the main console, climbed up the stairs, turned right and went through the gardens to reach his destination: the wardrobe room (as usual, a complete chaos). He did not go inside of it so often, it was more useful for the occasional companion he would pick up in some random occasion, always in life-and-death situations (the same old routine).

It had not been always like that.

In the beginning, the Doctor led a life of loneliness, and he was happy with it, 'thank you very much'. Well, not loneliness _per se_, when you carry your family around. But he kept them both for themselves, and that was good enough for him.

The habit of having others as guests in the TARDIS started, funnily enough, with a kidnapping, and became the sole thing that kept his soul from falling apart.

He needed friends. He needed the company. He needed people to boss around, to gloat over all thing he knew about, to criticize, to entertain, to lecture, to impress them, to impress him, to make him humble, to keep him on a moral leash.

And, from all species, he found that humans, those amazingly simple-minded humans, were exactly what the doctor prescribed.

Well, the other doctor. The "A" doctor, not the "THE" Doctor.

It took some time, but he found what he was looking for. He brushed off some of the pebbles still covering it.

His old spacesuit, borrowed indefinitely from the Sanctuary Base. That had been a close call, one of the closest in his entire life. He was ready to die for her, that day.

Rose. Forever young Rose.

'_Not the time!_'

He shook off those thoughts, those painfully happy thoughts. There were more important things to do now, a second moon on Earth's sky! How cool was that?

He noticed the boots. They still had that red dirt from Mars, too. '_Bowie Base One_'. He almost died there too.

In reality, the Doctor pretty much almost died in so many different places it was hard to remember some memory without near-death experiences in it.

(Thinking about it, he reckoned how lucky he was to only had to regenerate ten times after so much trouble).

Bowie Base One. His soul almost died that day, if it were not the sacrifice of a woman (another human being hurt on his path), so that the Doctor could learn a lesson, a lesson he should have learned by now, after witnessing the sins of Rassilon first hand.

Rassilon, the timeless President. Had he not done so much good in the past, only to become an arrogant despot, desperate to avoid death at all cost? How close the Doctor had been of becoming twisted beyond salvation?

The price was so high, too high. And she paid it to save him.

He visited Adelaide's grave every year, in her honor. Would she forgive him, if she saw him now, who he became? Not a Time Lord Victorious, just a... '_a madman in a box_'?

Who was he kidding, anyway? That was all in the past, a lifetime ago. He learned from his previous mistakes, and now he traveled once more through the stars, making a whole load of completely new mistakes. And today was the time to go for another walk with that old suit, to explore another mysterious wonder in outer space.

At least, that was the original plan, but, like always, things were not so simple.

'_I'm too tall for the spacesuit_', he reckoned.

The last time he wore it, he was indeed a little shorter. He would have to get a new suit to replace it.

He wondered how he confused things up after every regeneration, how he destroyed his most favorite scarf trying to find the Zero Room (luckily he had a dozen others, all exactly like that one), how he thought he was not himself but another new person (after the Cybermen, his first regeneration), how he forgot he could dance (rather spectacularly, he might add), how he tried to strangle Peri to death...

'_I'm doing it again_', he chasticized himself. '_No mopping. Don't. You outgrew the leather jacket phase a long time ago._'

Anyway, it wasn't his fault, he did get his senses confused after each and every time.

That made him stop and raise an eyebrow.

He was back at the console room, checking the screen.

"Confusion, huh?", he wondered.

The static, the misreadings, the "blender-engine-kind-of-apparatus" counter-spinning.

More buzzing.

"Oh, now THAT is interesting", he thought. He liked interesting things. When it got interesting, it got dangerous, and when it got dangerous, he got closer to finding out what was really going on.

"Only thing left... I need to experiment on a human's brain!"

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><p><em><strong>Please, if you can spare a minute, share your opinion and reviews, I would so much appreciate it!<strong>_


	3. The Doctor has Cake!

_I do not own Doctor Who nor any of its marvelous characters. Please, enjoy the show :)_

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><p>Harrold was bored. Bored of his job, bored of his father, bored of his coworkers and bored of his life.<p>

Didn't use to be like that, though. The young adult/old teenager called Harrold was once one of the best students in his class, not a genius, but he fared well. However, he had reached that point in life where if you don't know what the heck you're going to do with your life after the end of school, you'll end up in a lousy job in a fast-food court in some shopping center.

That was not the case of this Harrold person we are talking about, no. He had one clear interest: _motorcycles_. Their works, their shapes and sizes, their roars and their stunts. Harrold's father took him to an auto-show when he was the tender age of nine, and he was hooked up ever since. At the age of twelve, he already knew more about engines than his father did. With fourteen, he had learned all he could about two-stroke and four-stroke engines, Wankel designs, cylinders, rotors, ratios and gears from magazines and from the Internet.

Mechanic school, however, was not the dream his father had for him. Motorcycles were good as a hobby, not as a serious career. Who could blame him, really. He wanted a son working as a lawyer, an arquitect, even as an accountant, not one of those 'greased-hands-guys with no future', as he described in a particular discussion he had with his son on the day he shared this little revelation. 'Grades like yours, son! They will put a diploma in your hands, not a wrench!', he once stated.

But Harrold would not back down. However, with no support whatsoever from his father, Harrold now had to work his way through the course, even if it meant an aforementioned lousy job at a fast-food court. "At least, it was not a Shopping Center", he told himself daily, thinking that at least his shame wasn't complete if he did not fulfill all the requirements of the _cliché_.

He was the last employee still in the "Mama's Chips'n'Chips", in charge of the cleaning and closing the small business. He never had any problem with it, the shop was at a good location, near a square, a police station close by meant there was always some patrol around, and even the public lighting was good at eleven o'clock, no weirdos or the like on the street at this hour.

So, it was a big surprise when he finished locking the bolts behind the shop and turned around to see...

"Hello!", said the man in brown suit and scarlet bowtie.

"Holy...! What the hell do you want?", Harrold shouted, taking a step back, getting himself unintentionally closer to the shut door.

"Well, that's a little vague, isn't it? I mean, one can want so many things in life!"

"Huh?", Harrold felt the man was probably not right of mind.

"I mean, I wanted to be in New Zealand today, not in...", he sniffed the air a bit. "Bristol, I suppose. Don't get me wrong, I like Bristol, Bristol is cool!", he said with a smile, then whispered: "But it's no New Zealand."

"What I meant was, what the bloody hell do you want standing behind me like this?"

"Thought it was obvious! I wanted to talk to you, so I waited for you to turn around. It would be rude to interrupt your work, wouldn't it?"

"What? What do... hey, I know you... you're that guy from earlier!"

"Yes! Did you like them fries, by the way?"

Harrold breathed deeply, slowly rounding up the man, trying to get an escape route.

"Look, mister..."

"Doctor."

"Ok, look, Doctor-Whoever-You-Are. I'm no into... you, ok.

The Doctor cleared did not understand him.

"I'm sorry, but you're not my type", he said in another tone.

"Your type? Type of what?"

"... nevermind. It's been... 'nice', meeting you, mister."

"Doctor. The Doctor. Already told you, not a Mister. Nor a 'Mister Doctor' either. That would be just silly!"

But Harrold was already taking his leave.

"Hey, wait, I need your assistance, it's very important for you and your kind."

"My WHAT?", he asked in confusion.

"Your kind! The human-kind! Please, stop walking so fast!"

Harrold thought that was a dumb question. He had a man almost pushing him against the wall then the same man is after him telling him not to run. 'Who would ever stop for this kind of logic?'

"I just need to make a test with you, it won't hurt a bit! I won't even touch you, if that's what worrying you!"

"Go away, you lunatic!"

The Doctor was now walking faster and faster, almost running now.

"Look, if it is because of the fries, I'll have you know that I did not want to offend you. Look, I even brought cake!", he waved a small package of brown pastry. "Or we could have parfait!"

Harrold picked up his speed. He knew this walk would take them straight to the police in no time.

"At least do me a favor and look up!"

"What?", that caught his attention.

"Just look up and tell me how many moons do you see!"

'What kind of a silly question is that?', Harrold thought, unconsciously looking up. "Of course there is only..."

Harrold must have imagined something, but that could have just been a trick of light. There it was, a big, round, pale and lonely moon in the sky, like it always have been. But, for a second, no, even less than that, for a blink of an eye, he could have sworn he had just seen something else.

He noticed he was not running anymore. Neither was 'The Doctor'. He stood back a few paces back, adjusting his jacket and tie, not taking his eyes out of him.

"You saw it, didn't you? Or rather, you are telling yourself you did not see 'it'. But I'm telling you, you definitely SAW it."

Harrold felt awkward. The man was a loony, spouting non-sensical things and now he was trying to make Harrold see things.

But what things? Did he really see something strange?

"All I want... all I need", began the Doctor, and his whole tone of voice changed, not excited as before, it was pleading Harrold to trust the strange man, "is your help. It will only take a second, I promise it."

It was a strange request from a strange man at a strange moment. And the strangest part, Harrold trusted the man for no reason.

"What... do you need?"

The Doctor beamed at him and pulled a small pen-like device from his pocket.

"Just a little buzz and flash and it is all over! I promise!"

Harrold must have gotten crazy.

"Fine."

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><p><em><strong>Please, if you can spare a minute, share your opinion and reviews, I would so much appreciate it!<strong>_


	4. What you have been waiting for!

**_I do not own Doctor Who nor any of its marvelous characters. Please, enjoy the show :)_**

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><p>"Wonderful!", The Doctor said and smiled. "Now, let's go!", he shouted, as he turned around and started walking.<p>

"Go? Go where?", Harrold tried to keep up with the strange man.

They started walking down the street, already dark at that time.

"Well, silly me, but when I said a little flashy-buzzy, I did not mean here, of course!", he said out loud. "I'll have to get you to the TARDIS, first."

"Where?"

"Well, she's not exactly a where, you could say she's a… '_who/where/what/when'_."

_'Can't believe he actually said the slashes'_, Harrold thought to himself.

"Yes, that's more likely! And I'll tell you _whowherewhatwhen_ we are going to meet! Just as soon…"

The Doctor was lowering his voice, Harrold was finding that infuriating, until he realized, the Doctor was giving short looks, not at him, but someplace behind them.

"What?"

"Lower your voice a bit, we ARE being followed, you know", the stranger whispered.

"What, what are you tal…", Harrold almost turned, but the Doctor put a hand on his shoulder and turned him back front.

"Don't worry, everything will make sense in a minute!", loud voice, then whisper: "By the way, what is your name?"

"It's Harrold. Look…"

"Harrold, you look like the sort who works out, right? Fan of running, that sort of thing?"

"… yes", Harrold answered slowly. His early-morning jogging was just a hobby, though.

"Fantastic. Because, we will need to run at that direction", the Doctor discreetly pointed northway, "just as I give you the signal. Got it?"

"You… you are pulling my leg. Aren't you?"

"If necessary, I'll be pulling you by any limb available. Although that hardly seems productive to our current predicament."

_'Is he crazy?'_, he wondered.

Until Harrold looked into the Doctor's eyes.

No, the man was serious. Dead serious.

Every line in that crazy character's face was telling him that.

Someone was after them, and very soon, they would have to …

"RUN!"

Harrold barely started to move and the Doctor was quite a distance.

_'Damn, he's fast'_, he thought to himself.

That's when the trash can he just passed by burst into flames.

"What the hell?", he screamed, now matching the Doctor's speed with a renewed motivation.

The Doctor stared back at him, laughing as a maniac while shouting: "**GERONIMO**!"

"WHAT! THE! **HELL**?", Harrold yelled again, and this time the Doctor grabbed him by the arm and pushed him sideways.

Harrold barely had the chance to shout at him before a lightpost ahead melted. The Doctor had just pushed him out of harms way.

The man had saved his life.

"Get up, Harrold! We need to run down that street!"

Harrold looked at that direction and something was not making sense.

"But that's west, I thought you said we were going North?"

"Change of plans! RUN!"

Harrold barely got up and followed the man. A window next to the crazy man exploded.

"Good thing their aim is so bad!", the Doctor said.

"Who the hell is shooting at us?"

"No idea!", he grinned saying that. "Keep running!"

A minute later, and a lot of more property destroyed, their running suddenly got them into a brightly narrow street.

Harrold realized that that was a trap. With the walls so close and a place so well-lit, they were easy targets, sitting ducks…

Until he saw the Doctor smiling. He brandished that small penlight he was carrying, pointing at all directions and buzzing away.

"Harrold, when I give you the signal, cover your eyes, and keep running forward!"

"What?"

"NOW!", he screamed as he put a hand over his own eyes and pressed the tool one more time.

Harrold did as he was told a lot quicker than the last time. He kept running while he felt the whole temperature around him get suddenly really hot, subsiding and then there was only the usual cool breeze of the night again.

The Doctor pulled him into another direction. He opened his eyes, looking back and seeing the street they just got through shrouded in darkness.

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><p>They ran a little bit more, until the Doctor suddenly stopped, adjusting himself against a wall.<p>

"We are safe, for now. Wasn't that exciting?"

"What…happened?", Harrold asked, almost out of breath, his legs shooting pain signals all over his brain.

"Sonic'ed the light bulbs, overloaded them into emitting an all-spectrum full blast corneal-disorientation pulse. Might have pushed them a little too far. Can give quite a headache. Not lethal, though. Oh and you seem to have got a nice shade of tan, by the way."

Harrold did not know what to say. He spurted into asking all of a sudden: "What is going on? Who are you? Who is after us? WHAT IS GOING ON?"

The Doctor adjusted his bowtie and gave him a look, one cocked eyebrow and a hint of a grin.

"Trouble. The Doctor. No idea. Didn't I mention before? Trouble. Big one, size of a Moon."

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><p><strong><em>How about that! An update to this old story!<em>**

**_I know, I know, I need to keep up with the OTHER story as well, but it's good to add some action to an otherwise quiet Doctor Who story, isn't it?_**

**_More action to come, I promise!_**

**_Please, share your opinion, feel free to do so!_**


	5. Building up

**I do not own Doctor Who nor any of its marvelous characters. Please, enjoy the show :)**

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><p>The Doctor paced, Harrold keeping up – as best as he could – right behind him.<p>

"Okay, Mr. Harrold. Right now, we're being followed by some unknown armed force that has got some connection with that new moon in the sky. What we need now is some alternative way to get there, seeing as, obviously, they, whoever they may be, are now in possession of the TARDIS. My TARDIS!"

Harrold took a moment to take in all the things the man – 'The Doctor' – had said, without so much of a stop to breathe. He could only articulate a "Look, man. Can you just give me a moment and explain…"

"No, can't do it, sorry", the Doctor said, looking sideways and checking the closed shops' windows. "Normally, this would be the perfect time to drop the human weight, but, as you may have noticed, those who are looking for me now see you as a target as well."

"Huh?"

"Yes. Sorry about that, chap, terribly sorry."

"'Sorry'? You're saying there are people out there, wanting to kill me, because of YOU?"

"Yes, yes, I already told you I'm sorry", the Doctor said, annoyed. "Do tell me, do you have some sort of habit of repeating all that is said to you? It's getting annoying really fast, mind you."

The Doctor turned around, seeing Harrold with low eyebrows and open-mouthed.

The strange man took a second, his whole face showing a bit of regret now. "Oh. I was being rude again, thought I had outgrown that decades ago, yes. Sorry about that, I'm truly sorry. I just got so excited about this whole 'moony-copy-thingy' and someone had to start shooting at innocent humans because of me. Again!"

'Humans?', Harrold noticed the way the Doctor used the word, unnatural, like it was pejorative, or maybe excluding himself from the others.

"Don't worry about it, though, a-ha!", the Doctor said, cheerfully, spotting a hardware store and almost pulling Harrold with him. The man, he noticed, was surprisingly strong for his physique. "Now, I have both time to think and a whole lot of hardware to mess around with!"

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><p>"You know this is a crime, right, Doctor?", Harrold asked, pulling a wooden chair and sitting.<p>

The Doctor was at a welding station, tearing apart an alarm clock and a blender. Harrold followed along, as the Doctor buzzed at the back door and got inside the store, like he did not care about their 'breaking and entering'.

"Why?", the Doctor grinned as he passed by, taking a power drill from a shelf and a couple of plungers from another aisle. "Since I **am** leaving money for everything I'm using, you could say I'm just a peculiarly desperate buyer who happened to need some very specific tools for a rather unspecific life-or-death kind of situation. Which is exactly what I am."

Indeed, the Doctor left a good amount of pounds on a counter, more than enough to actually buy the store, Harrold thought.

He also wondered how the hell the man just casually – and physically – carried around such an amount of money in his pockets.

The Doctor was now dismantling a stapler and a nail-gun, picking pieces from each and putting them in a bucket.

"So,", he started, while pulling apart a Magpie Electricals landmower at such a speed Harrold could not dare blink or he would miss the movement of the man's hands, "what do we know, yet? One: big second moon that should not be, is", he pointed upwards.

"'B', all attempts made to scan it are either botched or get _fuzzy-woozy_", he shook the penlight, as to demonstrate his point, as he was examining some engine candles.

"'_Fuzzy-woozy_'", Harrold said, in a straight face.

"Layman's terms", the Doctor commented, the motherboard of one of the shop's computers in his hand. "Don't have the whole night to actually explaining it."

Harrold sat down and stared at the man.

The Doctor didn't seem to notice him, as he started buzzing his green penlight around many of the scrambled parts.

"And third", as he kept his strange line of thought, "we got chased tonight by people wielding heat blasting weaponry. And I know, for a fact, that those were clearly _cah-lien-_waves, and preterplasmic technology is not only fascinating as it is peculiar, didn't think any race used that stuff anymore. That is vintage, even for one like myself."

The Doctor was silent, for a change, lost in thoughts.

Harrold too.

Some really strange thoughts were forming in his head and, usually, he would simply discard them from his mind.

Tonight, however, since he was having a pretty usual boring chips-selling day, then there was running, screaming and a lamppost literally turned into a puddle of burning metal.

Well… he was not so eager to exclude strange thoughts off his mind. In fact, the more he thought about it, less absurd they seemed and closer to the realm of possibility they got.

"You sound crazy", Harrold finally said.

"Pish-posh!", the Doctor blurted, and already felt so old. "I sound genius, that is!"

"Genius? Yeah, maybe, but there is something you are not."

The Doctor gave a peek, out of curiosity.

"You are not human."

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><p><strong><em>Oh my, people are gonna hate me if I don't update the YJ story soon, but man, I've finally found a spark to keep the Doctor Who's story going, I would not miss the opportunity to improve it a little...<em>**

**_Well, thanks for reading, once again, and please, show some love and give me your opinion on this chapter, if you can spare me the time._**


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